I'm Better Than That
by SASundance
Summary: Shortish tag to Boxed In episode which focuses on the supportive relationship between Tony and Ducky in the aftermath of his finding out that he was excluded from a team dinner. Tony as a way of thanking Ducky reveals a very private part of himself to his friend.
1. Chapter 1

I'm Better Than That

**This is a short 3 chapter tag to the episode Boxed In. It is already finished and I will be uploading daily. This is the first story I have posted and I am hoping to find someone to beta my other stories so I can post them too. I would like to thank Kelvinanne, another newbie for her help, encouragement and suggestions. All mistakes are mine and for a summary of my other stories and their status, you can find them on my profile. I welcome your opinions :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS characters and do not stand to make financial gain from this work.**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: Angst/comfort**

Chapter 1

We are back in the bull pen at last. Officer Ziva David and I had been trapped in a shipping crate for most of the day and we were revelling in being back with the team again. We had just busted a bunch of terrorists in a counterfeit money smuggling ring and now we were kicking back in the office, relieved to have closed another case. We are safe and unharmed, apart from a very minor gunshot wound that I incurred; just a scratch really. It is hardly worth mentioning, let alone having to use the sling that Ducky insisted I wear, so all's good with the world.

Ziva is fine thank goodness! If anyone has to be hurt then I'm glad that it's me. I'm the senior field agent and its up to me to look after the team and take the hits. It was a tough day though. Ziva especially seemed rattled by the experience which was quite a surprise, considering her history as a Mossad trained operative and all While I can't say that it was exactly a fun day, it certainly wasn't even up there on the scale as one of the worst situations in my professional career. (Thinking about getting the plague, beaten, stabbed, drugged, abducted ... well you get the gist I'm sure.)

Truth be told, I guess that I am really pretty shocked by how panicked Ziva seemed to be when we first realised we were trapped. So I chose to overlook her incredibly insubordinate behaviour in flaying me verbally about how badly I screwed up. We came under fire by multiple assailants, without warning and there was no time for reconnaissance. It was a split second survival decision to seek shelter in the shipping crate and yes it didn't turn out so good but it was better than getting killed or badly wounded. The verbal insubordination in and of itself was nothing new, except that it wasn't the subtle barbed variety that I have come to expect from Officer David. She has a superiority complex, that's for damned sure and she is pretty insolent with me in particular. I can't help but wonder what makes her so damned contemptuous of me. Maybe she just hates me; I am almost as good at pissing people off as Gibbs!

What I do know though is that for a highly trained agent, used to facing life and death situations, it isn't normal to freak out in a situation where there isn't an immediate threat to life or limb. Nor is it SOP to fire a gun inside a metal container to try and shoot your way out. I should not have had to tell her not to fire her gun; for all the good it did me though. If it had been the Probie I could maybe understand the panic given his inexperience, but I would have also ripped him a new one too for such a stupid move. Ziva knows much better than that though, she isn't inexperienced like McGee.

Ziva panicked; she wasn't listening to anything I said, certainly not when I told her not to discharge her weapon. What sane person tries to shoot her way out of a locked metal shipping crate? We were just incredibly lucky that the inevitable ricochet didn't hit either of us. Lucky that is, apart from the bruised shoulder that I suffered as Ziva forcefully pushed me down after firing her weapon. I hit the metal floor without being prepared to do so and combined with her bodyweight on top of me it hurt. Not as much as a bullet would have hurt I'll grant you, so I am grateful for small mercies I guess. But come on, it shouldn't have happened in the first place.

Such a huge procedural error would normally be cause for a serious censure and by rights I shouldn't let it slide but I saw how out of control Ziva was and knew that there must be a reason. Even when we both thought we were about to die that time we were playing undercover assassins, she had been cool and calm, something that we both have been trained for. Today though, there was real fear in her eyes. She had been out of control and I recognised the signs. Perhaps as a child or because of some traumatic experience as an operative, she had developed a doozie of a phobia. Maybe even had some type of PTSD flashback that had been triggered by being trapped in the crate. I know because I have plenty of my own demons as well, so I recognise the signs.

I really hadn't been kidding about liking dark small spaces; I spent too many hours during my childhood, hiding away in my closet. In the dark, comfort of my sanctuary I was out of the line of fire of my alcoholic father, his physical corrections, his scornful tongue and 'Dinozzo's Don't Rules'. It was also a soothing haven from my confusion over my mother's strange periods of obsession with me. Of dressing me in sailor suits well beyond what could be considered to be appropriate, not to mention her own battles with the bottle. Tucked up with a blanket, pillow, flashlight and one of my beloved mystery stories, I whiled away a lot of my childhood huddled in my closet. Even when it was safe to sleep in my own froufrou Louis XVI canopied bed, I often chose to sleep in my hidey hole instead. To this day, I sometimes wake up after a particularly bad nightmare and find myself retreating to my closet to regain some equilibrium.

While I like dark, small spaces, I equally loathed echo-filled, dank, cold, and mouldy spaces. No doubt my loathing is courtesy of a 'lesson' when my father locked me away in the basement and was so drunk that he forgot about me, leaving me all alone for several days. Even the scent of mould as an adult is enough to make me want to run a mile and my heart always begins to race. So I recognised in Ziva something of a kindred spirit and I decided to cut her some slack for now, while resolving to talk to her when the time was right. Partners needed to watch each other's six and depend on each other This time I thought it needed a lighter touch than our favourite functional mute could offer with a size eleven jackboot up her butt and a "suck it up Marine" type speech. When it comes to the emotional touchy- feely stuff, Gibbs has the emotional IQ of a cactus

I didn't mention her loss of control and insubordination in my report and when I dig into the cause of her panic and I will, I will chose an appropriately private time and place to do so and I will get to the bottom of it. As much as I sympathise, it cannot be allowed to jeopardise the well being of the team. Still all things considered, I felt despite the drama today, we had made some progress as partners. Ziva had been grudgingly impressed with my knowledge of counterfeit currency, I got to do a McGyver and build an antenna for the cell phone (or maybe that should be a McGee) and best of all she had invited me home for a meal. While admittedly, I was hurt that Tim and Jimmy Palmer had already been invited before me, I chided myself for being childish and needy. Two unattractive traits unfortunately, that are legacy of a so called privileged childhood, where my parents' servants showed me more genuine love and acceptance than the two people who conceived me.

We also had a shared moment together about our respective pianos, although I chickened out and couldn't tell Ziva that it was my mother who taught me to play. That I still play but only ever for her which would probably make me sound completely psycho seeing as how she is dead! It was just too personal to share this with someone who I have only known for a short time, even if she is my partner. Hell who am I kidding, it is something I haven't shared with anyone! I'd prefer to go to work stark naked than share something that intimate with anyone I work, with even if they are like my family.

So there I was, kicking back in the bull pen feeling glad to be back with the team, letting Abby fuss over me. Enjoying watching how mad it made McEnvious, who despite his fizzled out fling with the forensic Goth, still got jealous about Abbs and my close friendship. Then when the subject of Ziva cooking dinner for me came up, I felt as if they all lined up to take turns in stabbing me in the heart with a very sharp knife. (No doubt of the Peruvian steel variety.) Apparently last night Ziva invited all of the team apart from me to her dinner party.

She could have at least told me that while we were in the crate together instead of letting me find out in front of everyone that I had been the only one not invited. Finding out that way was like plunging and twisting the knife around to make sure that they did the maximum amount of damage. I really wish that I didn't care so much what my team thinks of me. When I glanced at Ziva, I guess to see if it was really happening, I saw no remorse, embarrassment or apology but something else. What I 'm not sure – amusement, malice or triumph but when my glance passed over McGee I recognised his expression. Tim is so easy to read and he wonders why he doesn't get to do undercover ops and why I always beat him at poker. He had a smug, self satisfied grin on his face as he enjoyed my exclusion and my pain.

My father was a pitiful excuse for a parent or even a role model, but he did teach me one very important lesson that I really took to heart.

"Never let your enemies know that you have a soft under belly."

It is advice that I used against him when he decided to use me as his personal punching bag when he was drunk. The harder he hit me, the louder my mouth ran off and the strategy has worked for me when I am undercover or taking on scumbags and even, smug supercilious superiors. Never let them see you hurting. I didn't expect that I would need to use that same advice with my own teammates but I guess that when it all comes down to it, they aren't my family even if I need them to be. So I plastered on my most megawatt grin and made some lewd comment to Ziva and then headed out with her as she had offered to drive me home and cook dinner because of my arm. Consummate actor that I am, I was able to prattle on as if my heart hadn't be torn out of my chest and ripped in two.

I so needed out of going back to Ziva's place tonight but I also didn't want her figuring out that she had succeeded in getting under my skin. So as she drove away from the yard I started rubbing my head and frowning before getting all quiet, which always throws people when I do it. Finally I spoke to Ziva and said that I was developing a migraine and would she mind if we did dinner some other time? That I needed to go home and sleep. Better that she think that I have a physical weakness like migraines (which I do sometimes) than for her to know she has shaken my equilibrium to its very foundations. Truthfully, I did feel a headache coming on although whether it will progress to a full blown migraine or not remains to be seen. Hopefully not but I do need to go home and be alone so I can try and regain some semblance of control over my emotions. Tomorrow is another day and I need to build my impenetrable defences back up again.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I have to say that I was pretty nervous about posting this story, not just because it is my first but because many others have tackled this topic before and I didn't know if anyone would be interested reading mine take on it. I really wanted to come up with something fresh that was also cathartic to write. I have to say I am humbled by the response I have received for the first chapter so far. Almost 1200 hits - wow I guess a lot of you are still feeling the rage about Tony's exclusion, just like me :) Thank you to everyone that has placed this story on story alert and or the ultimate compliment for a first time writer, to make me a favourite author. I am overwhelmed! Also a huge thanks to anyone who took the time to leave a review. **

**No to belabor the point but I am looking for someone to Beta my stories. Several are waiting to be uploaded but need an the loving ministrations of an eagle eyed beta reader. Send me a PM. I promise I'm not a literary Diva and I play well with others. This story is unfortunately unbeta'd and I apologise for any mistakes that have slipped through. A huge thank you to Kalvinanne for all her help in reviewing this chapter and making invaluable suggestings despite trying to finish her first story too. Check it out - Don't Go Softly Into The Night**

Chapter two

Tony

I was up early next morning after a poor night's sleep. I had almost been tempted to crawl into my closet to self soothe but decided with my bruised shoulder, I needed to sleep in my bed instead. Hey Gibbs sleeps under his half- built boat in his basement most of the time after all, which maybe explains why he is such a testy bastard. Or maybe not!

I stood under the hot shower forever, letting the heat penetrate my shoulder prior to getting dressed for work. Ducky would kill me if he knew I got my wound wet (DiNozzo's luck would have it that it had to be the same arm) but I needed to loosen up my shoulder. I don't want to have to explain how I got that injury because it wasn't in my report.

I needed to get my butt into gear because Laurie my neighbour offered to give me a ride into work today. I really appreciated that kindness because I was able to tell my teammates that I didn't need a lift into work. Laurie works five minutes away from NCIS and I sometimes give her a lift when her car is in the shop.

I decided to dress casually. I know that Gibbs has a theory that when I dress up there is something wrong and I'm over compensating but I often dress down when I'm feeling crappy and dress up when I'm feeling fine, just to mess with his theory. If Gibbs is fooled, then I can keep him from guessing too much about me which suits me fine. In Gibbs' universe he must know everything that you think, do and feel but acts as if you have committed a heinous crime if you try and make any inquiries about him; so I don't feel guilty keeping him off balance about me.

I'll sometimes go all silent, still and broody for the same reason too, just to mess with everyone's minds because it drives them crazy. So I pulled on my favourite pair of jeans and a black shirt and my old comfy leather jacket. Then I was ready to go in to work, no soft under belly exposed and my Very Special Agent persona firmly in place once again. No guilt at all about pulling on my armour around Gibbs either. It seems like he was fine with not having my six at Ziva's dinner party because he had worn a big smug grin when he dropped the little bombshell that he had attended. I mean usually you need dynamite to get him attend any team get- togethers.

When everyone was entrenched at their desks, McGee fixed me with his 'Mr I'm an MIT graduate and I know it' smirk and asked me if I enjoyed Ziva's cooking. So I rearranged my expression into one of regret and told him that I ended up having to take a raincheck due to a migraine. Ziva looked... what? Confused maybe or perhaps uncomfortable? Frankly I didn't much care about her motivations.

I gave a vacuous grin and returned to sorting through my emails. I deleted the one from Ducky telling me to report so he could check my arm. I realised that I hadn't changed the wet dressing this morning but hopefully he would get distracted telling Palmer about some fertility ritual he had participated in while visiting a tribe in Outer Mongolia back in 1973. Okay so I was deluding myself but hope springs eternal.

Gibbs phone rang, and he glowered in my direction before grunting and slamming down the phone. Apparently Ducky had ratted me out to him and Gibbs told me to report down to Autopsy immediately. So I did my usual eye roll before skipping out down to report to Ducky, hoping that he would cut me a little slack when he saw the dressing. Ducky was waiting for me with a curious expression on his face before telling Jimmy to go and help Abby until further notice. I appreciated the privacy but then Dr Mallard knows that I don't like an audience when I am being examined. Heck I don't even like him being there during the exam.

So he told me to take off my shirt and I remembered my shoulder. The jarring I took yesterday hadn't shown up when Ducky stitched the bullet wound... err ... scratch but today there were purple and black bruises galore. Plus it was definitely tender and swollen. So I rolled up my sleeve instead and Ducky saw my bedraggled dressing and he clucked disapprovingly. I told him that he needn't worry so much, that it was just a scratch and I was fine.

Ducky did an eye roll that I would have been proud to have executed myself and snorted. He then proceeded to tell me tartly that a wound that removed several centimetres of biceps brachii muscle and required a dozen stitches was not a scratch and needed to be taken seriously. When I hesitated to remove my shirt as he directed, he grabbed it and pulled it up and over my head while I bit back a groan. Maybe he wouldn't notice although his gasp kind of dampened that hope. Damn!

#############

Ducky

I wanted to check on Anthony after I heard the rest of the team joking about leaving him out of the dinner party that Ziva had organised two nights before. She had invited me too but I was otherwise committed to attend the American Medical Examiners Association Annual Dinner and had to decline regretfully. I was so happy that she was fitting into Gibbs' team because her arrival had been difficult in light of dear Caitlyn's death.

Although Anthony had done his usually impeccable job of deflecting everyone's attention away from the fact that he was crushed by her death, I knew otherwise. Abigail hated Ziva with a passion and Timothy was just shell shocked by the violent death of his teammate. So when I heard about the team dinner and the invitation to my assistant James and Abigail as well as myself, I was gladdened to think that finally the team was finding its feet again.

Then last night as Tony was going home after a rather difficult day and with a gunshot wound to boot, I heard them all taunting him and realised that he had been excluded. I was damn disgusted with the lot of them and felt like giving the exotic former assassin Ms David a good old fashioned spanking, but I was most disappointed at my old friend, Jethro. I can make no excuse for his behaviour.

He knows as well as I do that Anthony has no family, apart from a cold and distant father who disowned his only child at the tender and vulnerable age of twelve. I know more too, having the benefit of seeing Anthony's medical file, not to mention having countless opportunities to carry out physical examinations since he joined NCIS four and a half years ago. I know how important Anthony's teammates are to him and how he craves approval and attention because he was deprived of the most basic of emotional needs as a child. If anyone set out to cause him the maximum amount of pain, then leaving him out of a team event would be right up there. Much more painful than the thrashings that he endured on a regular basis growing up. I couldn't believe the cruelty of Gibbs' team and Gibbs knows better than that too.

I knew that Tony would have been devastated by their actions and I wanted to show him my support because I have become inordinately fond of this young agent since I met him. I have seen the way he protects everyone from Gibbs wrath and how he willingly absorbs the force of Gibbs bad moods and sarcastic tongue lashings when cases aren't going well. He even tries to protect me which I find endearing, although I am not afraid of Jethro's moods or tongue. Unlike so many of his colleagues, I have never been taken in by the many superficial faces that Anthony DiNozzo presents to the world.

I saw immediately the very sensitive and uncertain young man who learnt at an early age that he couldn't depend on anyone else to look out for him. Who discovered that he had to protect himself with a hard outer shell so that people never asked him painful questions about his past or discovered his vulnerabilities. Anthony has never learnt to trust people, which is hardly surprising although he sometimes lets one or two of us into his private world just a little . The person he trusts the most, although not enough to share his darkest secrets with, is of course Jethro and so his cruelty in this matter was just breathtaking as far as I'm concerned. I know I am a poor substitute for his mentor but I feel that I have to try and offer him some solace and solidarity.

Since I started looking after his various medical injuries, he has begun to open up somewhat to me about his upbringing. Of course being privy to his records means that he knows that I know but he sometimes volunteers information freely over a cup of tea. So because I was concerned about him after the shabby treatment from the team, I really needed to talk to him and he also needed to have his wound checked. Both of us are busy people so I thought I would kill two birds with one stone.

When he slouched into Autopsy with his combination of feline grace and haughtiness, I cast my professional eye over him and could see that he was hurting. Probably physically as well as emotionally I thought. Anthony will never take analgesia unless he has a gun held to his head and he was definitely standing stiffly now that he was stationary. I told him to remove his shirt and when he rolled up his sleeve instead, I immediately wondered what he was hiding.

At first I thought it was because he let the dressing get wet this morning so I grabbed his shirt and pulled the loose shirt up and over his head and heard him yelp in surprise. Anthony is no wimp when it comes to pain, despite what Timothy and Ziva might believe about Anthony's injury being just a scratch and I intend to set them both straight on that score too. I can't imagine that young Timothy would be back at work the next day after being shot. He gets queasy at the sight of blood.

After I divested Anthony of his shirt, I understood why he was reluctant to strip off, as his left shoulder is bruised and swollen. When I glared at him and demanded to know what had cause this injury he hesitated and looked at me pleadingly before asking if it was confidential. Of course as his doctor I assured him that it would be and so he explained how it happened.

I must admit that I was as shocked as he was that Ziva could make such a rudimentary error and I asked if she had been injured too. Anthony shook his head and said he didn't think so because she had landed on top of him so would have been cushioned by his body. I could tell he was angry about the situation and I was curious about why he hadn't reported it, but decided that I his shoulder injury should be my first priority. It needed to be X-rayed immediately to make sure it was just a soft tissue injury as Anthony insisted.

Of course Anthony objected but he knows that when it comes to medical matters I'm just as obstinate as he is, so he gave in fairly graciously under the circumstances. After determining that it was indeed a soft tissue injury, I gave him an anti-inflammatory injection and some NSAIDs and cream to use. Then I redressed his gunshot wound and reminded him to take his antibiotics. I decided to bring up the subject that had been bothering me although I also wanted to know why he didn't report his shoulder injury and why he didn't want Jethro to know about Ziva. I decided to move the discussion into my office where it was a little more private and we would have warning if someone entered.

So after making him comfortable and giving him a fragrant cup of Ceylon Orange Pekoe tea, I glanced at him and asked him why he had covered up for Ziva. I hoped he hadn't developed an infatuation for the sloe eyed beauty because I didn't want him getting hurt. Anthony surprised me by telling me that he suspected that such out of character, unprofessional behaviour, such a rookie error must have been because of some flashback or phobia. When I asked him why he thought that, he smiled at me sadly and told me he recognised the symptoms.

His words could be interpreted as having seen it in colleagues during his decade in law enforcement but his smile told me otherwise. I knew that Anthony has more than his fair share of demons and I was hoping that he would share, but he simply said that he wanted to deal with Ziva and her problem himself. He smiled sarcastically as he said that he felt he might be better equipped than Gibbs to deal with Ziva's issue.

Satisfied that he wasn't just going to ignore the situation, I felt relieved but wondered how to broach the real reason I needed to talk to him. I decided to ease into it by telling him about the dinner that I had attended at the AMEA and noticed that he immediately looked relieved that I hadn't been party to his exclusion. His expression which had immediately become guarded and brittle, relaxed a little so I took a breath before launching into this very sensitive topic.

"Anthony my lad, I know that you probably don't want to discuss this but forgive an old doctor who needs to chew the fat. I was extremely disappointed and angry with your teammates for excluding you from a team activity, when I found out last night. I'm so glad that I didn't accept Ziva's invitation because it was unforgivable. Even inviting you back to her place to cook dinner for you last night was far too little, far too late. How did it go by the way? " I asked curiously.

I watched his eyes shift between emotions I identified as conflict, relief, anger, guilt and marvelled at the complexity of this individual who I count as a part of my family. He bowed his head for almost a minute before finally meeting my eyes and answering my question.

"Ah well... I feigned a migraine Ducky and went home instead. I frankly wasn't in the mood to spend any more time with Ziva right then. I know it was wrong to lie but I didn't want to let her know how much they had all rattled my cage. It is stupid to get so upset about being left out, I'm not a child and I know that I can be a serious pain in the butt. I... just didn't want them to see how hurt I was. Senior told me not to let your enemies see your soft underbelly and he was right. And... thank you for your support Ducky, it means a lot," he grinned at me gratefully with a lopsided grin that was far from his usual megawatt smile.

'Oh Anthony,' I exclaimed inwardly. 'How can you think that there is any excuse for leaving you out! I'd like to be able to thrash that cur of a man who passed on his DNA to you, for damaging you so badly. In spite of him you are a rare and courageous man, looking out for teammates even when they don't deserve your empathy and care.

Instead I fixed him with my doctor glare. " Utter nonsense, my dear boy! There is no excuse for their behaviour and without you to hold everyone together, they would find life quite intolerable having to deal with Jethro directly. I remember how he could never keep junior agents before you joined the team and became their protector. I find you to be an admirable person and I am proud to call you a friend. And I do appreciate you letting me see the private side of you sometimes, it is an honour."

Anthony pulled out his phone as he stood up grimacing; saying that McGee had sent a text message telling him that Gibbs was on the warpath. "Gotta go Duck, the Grizzly Bear needs some soothing. Thanks for everything." He gave me a brief one armed hug before heading for the door.

I knew that soothing the Grizzly Bear involved Anthony allowing Jethro to use him as his very own verbal punching bag to diffuse Gibbs' poorly regulated frustration mechanisms. I shook my head in admiration at his courage and self sacrifice. I know that he does it to protect everyone else in the office, including those self same teammates who had been particularly cruel to him in the last few days.

I marvelled at his resilience but I couldn't help wondering why he would bother or why he would want to protect Ziva from her serious mistake yesterday. Especially when it had resulted in another painful injury, not to mention that her unacceptable behaviour had wounded him so deeply. Not many people would worry about trying to protect a team mate under those circumstances. So before he could leave, I placed a restraining hand on his good arm and asked him why.

His eyes harden for a moment before softening as he held my gaze and smiled at me sadly. "Because Ducky, I'm better than that." Then he turned and walked out of Autopsy to face and soothe the Grizzly Bear.

Later that day I dropped by the bull pen to invite Anthony over for lunch on Sunday. "Mother's been asking when you were coming over again to help groom the corgis and I can dress your arm at the same time. Don't roll your eyes at me Anthony. Losing a chunk of muscle from your biceps brachii and twelve sutures should not be ignored." I smiled slyly at him while surreptitiously glancing at the two junior agents. Jethro as team leader already knew about Tony's injury; well the gunshot wound anyway. I had kept his shoulder injury secret as he requested as he was already on desk duty, so it didn't seem to be that much of an issue.

Anthony flashed me his trade mark grin but for a second or two he dropped the mask to let me see he was grateful for my small kindness; before pulling the mask firmly back in its place and assuring me that he would be honoured to have lunch with us. And the truth was that Anthony seemed to get along well with my eccentric elderly mother. He certainly had a way with the fairer sex but he always seemed to enjoy spending time with us, perhaps because his mother had been English. Certainly my mother Victoria is charmed by his old fashioned good manners even if she insisted on calling him her Italian Gigolo.

Funny that people focus on his Italian heritage when he is also half English. But then people also focus on his family money, his good looks and his education. They are either fawning over him for his athletic achievements or contemptuous of his jock status. I wonder whether people including certain MIT graduates, would be chagrined to discover his impressive academic record and Masters Degree that he never mentions. He apparently decided when he went into law enforcement that a dim-witted jock when combined with his surname and appearance would be easier for people to cope with. Sadly I guess he is right.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Once again I am overcome with the response and support I have received for my first story. I didn't expect anything like this so thank you so much everyone for the reviews, alerts and and faves. I hope I managed to reply to all your sheer volume of alerts made it impossible to respond individually unfortunately.**

** This is the final chapter of my story and it has been a heady experience, learning how to upload and navigate around the site. Hopefully I'll be uploading more stories soon.**

**This story is unbeta'ed but I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Kalvinanne for her support and help in improving the epilogue; the whole dang story actually. She kindly offered her help while trying to finish her own first piece 'Don't Go Gently Into The Night.' If you like competent Tony then you will love her story. Any mistakes that occur are mine alone.**

**Finally to update on my other work. I am hopeful that I have found a Beta for my series Anthony's Angels, so hopefully I will be able to begin uploading chapters sooner rather than later. I am still looking for someone to Beta my Agent Afloat series which is ready to go. At this stage there are four unrelated AU scenarios to explain why Tony was sent away to sea if it really wasn't as a punishment as stated by Director Vance. I am totally loathe to post stories without a beta or at least someone to proof my work. If anyone is interested let me.**

I'm Better Than That

Epilogue

Several months later

Ducky

I stared down at the elegantly handwritten invitation on heavy card, inviting Mrs Victoria Mallard and Dr Donald Mallard to dinner at Anthony DiNozzo's home to celebrate Dr Mallard's birthday. I am highly moved that Anthony would take it upon himself to do this for me. He knows that Mother has been quite poorly recently and so I probably wouldn't be inviting the team to my place this year, as is my custom on my birthday. The dear boy has been making almost weekly visits to the Mallard family home to cheer Mother up and give me a break. I have to laugh when the team question him about his latest paramour and he regales them with stories about his English rose.

I smiled at his subtle choice of flowers as we sat around his elegantly set table. A floral centrepiece is adorned with yellow hybrid tea roses, Peer Gynt if I'm not mistaken which are Mother's favourites. The silver service and antique candelabra, inherited from his maternal grandmother all gleamed in the glow of the candlelight. Vivaldi's Four Seasons played softly in the background, contributing to the ambience and sophistication of the meal.

I wonder if anyone else is aware of the irony of this first team dinner since Ziva's dinner party. Anthony has extended his hospitality to the whole team including my youthful assistant Mr Palmer, Abigail and even McGee's cousin who is visiting young Timothy and he is a relaxed and convivial host. Perfect wines accompany simple but delicious Italian food which Ziva and co assume he has had professionally catered. Anthony merely smiled although he neither confirmed nor denied her statement. Seeing a certain gleam in his eye, I am convinced that he has indeed prepared it himself.

After dinner when he served us tea and coffee in the living room, the team all presented me with gifts, which was very kind of them. Anthony's was especially poignant for me though; a red, leather bound First Edition copy of the Alexander Dumas' literary classic, The Three Musketeers. I smiled across at Anthony when I saw his gift, remembering how when he first joined us at NCIS he often joked that Jethro, Abigail and I were like The Three Musketeers. I also knew that there were further complexities to his gift, consistent with his own exceedingly multifaceted personality. One of his secrets entrusted to me is his passion for the classics, which I share too. I chuckled as I remember Anthony's apt comparison of the obsessed Captain Ahab in the classic Moby Dick to his curmudgeonly boss Jethro, when he was hunting down Ari. Not only did the young agent draw the analogy but he had been courageous enough, some would say stupidly, suicidal enough to tell Jethro to his face.

Even more subtly though, is that he wanted to thank me for supporting him, after his exclusion from Ziva's party. The others are probably diverted by his extravagance, wrongly labelling it as flaunting his (non- existent) wealth or just trying to show off but I understood the message he was sending me. Anthony is quite a chivalrous young fellow. The credo of the heroes of the classic tale; that of _'all for one and one for all'_ is one he adopted as his own. Anthony is also acknowledging that I too share that ethos.

He was thanking me for having his 'six' and letting me know that it was reciprocated. I nodded seriously to him to let him know that I received the unspoken message and he flashed me a truly genuine, mask free smile that almost stopped my heart with its joyfulness before he winked and carefully masked his expression once more. He really was a chameleon like no one I have encountered and I wonder how long it would take for someone to unravel this enigma of a man.

As we all mutually decided to call it a night and depart, Anthony surprised me again by asking me to stay a little longer as he had something that he wished to show me. He politely steered everyone else apart from Mother toward the front door of his apartment, gathering coats and handbags for his guests from his spare room before saying good night to the extended team. He had a mischievous gleam to his eyes that he made no attempt to hide.

No doubt he was enjoying the team's unabashed curiosity, understanding intuitively, that they as investigators but most particularly Jethro hated not knowing what was going on. He smiled at me and said he wouldn't be a minute and went down with the team. I presumed to make sure they got into their cars and left before he showed me whatever it was that was obviously very private. As I waited, it occurred to me that although it probably hadn't been his intention, he had just managed to give the rest of the team a tiny taste of the exclusion that they had delivered to him.

I could tell that when he returned he was nervous and I wondered what he was going to show me. He walked over to the piano in the corner of the room and sat down before sighing deeply and began to play. I had long wondered about the piano in his apartment but it was not something he ever wished to discuss as far as I am aware. I had always thought his elegant hands were those of a pianist and as they glided across the keys while he played, first Mozart's Piano Concerto No 6 in B-flat major before moving to Beethoven Piano Sonata number 8 in C minor, I could scarcely take my eyes off him. He was exceedingly talented but he obviously didn't wish for people to know that. I glanced at Mother and found by her rapturous expression, she was enjoying the special performance as much as I was.

When Anthony finally ceased playing, he turned and offered me a shy smile that somehow was tinged with nervous pleading. This was no act, he had dropped his hard outer shell to let me glimpse at his true nature. Even though both of us are verbal by nature, we are like yin and yang. Anthony uses his tongue as a protective cloak while managing to reveal very little of consequence when it comes to his real self. He conceals himself by deflection and by the sheer volume of what he says.

I on the other hand love to prattle on and love parables as a form of communication; they give insight into my inner Duck. I am a man who views the world in all its subtlety and not as a series of neat bullet points. I look at life and see a richly hued palate of greys, not simple black or white. I am the epitome of the road less travelled rather than a Type- A goal focused sort of person. The older I become, the less I feel the need to pretend or to hide my eccentricities. I guess I am becoming comfortable in my skin

Ironically, Tony finds it almost impossible to express in words, anything that is truly important to him. That is probably why he is so good at understanding Gibbs and anticipating his needs so well. With a flash of intuition I knew he had decided to show me a very important but intensely private part of himself, when he played for me but he was nervous that I would want more than he could give.

Unlike Jethro who will pick away at Anthony when he thinks he is holding back secrets from him, I am quite content to let Anthony decide how much or how little of his personal life he reveals. He knows that I will listen if he needs me to. So I crossed to him and gave him a heartfelt hug and told him how honoured I was that he has shared his gift with me. I told him it is one of the best gifts I have ever received and will treasure it forever.

Then I turned to Mother and suggested that we head home. As I smiled at him he hurried off to gather our things for us. I thought back to the time in Autopsy when I asked him why he cared about protecting his teammates when they had treated him so shabbily and what he said to me. 'Yes Anthony you are so much better than that and I am proud to call you family.'

Tonight had been a revelation. Anthony had chosen to share an intensely private part of his inner self; to let me know that I am an important and trusted part of his life. I made a vow to myself to ensure that I never betray his trust in me. It had been hard won but what I saw tonight assures me that he is definitely worth the effort.

**Endnotes: Well that's it folks. The end of my first story! I know some people were wanting to see Ducky flay the team on Tony's behalf and I think that you can take as given that he did indeed take Gibbs, most especially to task . Also, I'm sure that the others would have felt the effects of his disapproval too but I wrote this story some time ago with the express intend of exploring how Ducky's support helped Tony cope with his hurt. This was only ever going to be a short piece. I felt that any exploration of 'The Road to Damascus ' type realisations by the team of the enormity of their trangression and any resulting mea culpus, would require a much longer writte piece to do justice to the story and make it believable. I may pick up the topic again or write a companion piece sometime in the future. So I hope that the fact that Tony was able to come through a very hurtful incident with his integrity intact and still manage to get a little of his own back again will not leave you all too disappointed. :)**

**For those of you that liked said how much they enjoyed the pairing of Ducky and Tony, I'm glad because I love Ducky! I already have some additional Ducky and Tony frienship pieces written and have others in the works. I hope you enjoy them them. I agree that there isn't a lot of this particular pairing and I love to be different. LOL**

**Adieu SASundance**


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